anunluckypenny | IC Contact

It's thoughtful.

[He'll just cut her off there, an arm round her shoulder gently steering them toward the kitchen.

It's thoughtful, although he's aware the thought must have cropped up while watching that memory. So it's pity, too.]

How's the super-amazing chilli been going down with the residents?

[Okay, that'll do.

If only the invitation had been motivated by thoughtfulness and pity alone. There was some pity, yes, but for the most part Penny just wanted Chase's company.]

Pretty well, but I don't think anyone likes it as much as you.

Good. There should be leftovers.

[He grins, pleased with this and with her reaction to the gift - it wasn't much and he went for what was in the window because that had to make it the best in stock, right?]

I meant what I said about helping you use that, by the way. [and, pause.] The um. Hammer, not the purse.

Plenty, but it's not hard to make. You know, if you ever need something to eat.

[Good guess, Chase. It helps that it's cruelty-free. She grabs a mug and fills it with coffee from the coffeemaker.]

I figured, and I'd really appreciate it. It's a little drafty.

[He's smart enough not to give leather to the girl fretting over killing a tree.]

Insulating the roof's a good place to start. It should bring down the heating costs for the whole building. As well as being the foundation for a cozy flat.

You know a lot about home improvement for a doctor. Is that a guy thing or a hobby?

I like to think of it as a guy hobby. Don't worry, I'll leave the wires and pipes to professionals.

Sounds fair. Stop in whenever you feel like fixing things; I'll probably be here.

[She pauses as if considering what she's about to say.]

You know you're always welcome to come by, right?

[The sign over the door says welcome, and it's truer here than anywhere else in the city. So he nods, though - with a small hesitation.]

I know.

[Because it's not just the centre's genral welcome she means, is it. As much as she embodies it.]

You're still worried about me, aren't you.

Okay.

[The Welcome Center is one thing; everyone's perfectly welcome there. Penny does mean something different where Chase is concerned.]

Honestly? I'm always a little worried about you, crazy memory-pears or not. But it's not a bad kind of worried.

[He's dubious about this.]

What's the good kind?

It's the kind I don't mind being because you're worth worrying about.

[That's not the kind of thing he hears often. In Chase's life there's been the woman who told him she was the last person she could ever love, then changed her mind about whether she ever had. There's been the mentor slash father figure for whom admitting he cares would be grounds for diagnosing a personality disorder. And there's been the real father, the real mother, neither of whom lived up to the term duty of care.

He's not, in fact, used to being told he's worth much of anything.

So there's a small soundless attempt at a reply before he ducks his head and breathes out the assurance that she doesn't need to worry about him. He doesn't deserve it.

Instead he takes a minute, fingers drumming a quiet beat where they're curled against his ribs, and then says.]

It was a nun thing.

[He should hear it more often. As far as Penny's concerned, Chase is among the best in the City--thoughtful, talented, kind. He has some baggage that she doesn't know much about, but it hasn't stopped him from being anything short of perfect.

(Admittedly, Penny is prone to overlooking flaws. This might be doubly so with Chase.)

With all of the nonverbal build-up, Penny's expecting Chase to say something profound. What he actually says doesn't register.]

Huh?

[It's profound, in that barely five people know these specific details of his history, and more than half that number weren't told by choice. Chase actually winces as he figures out how to put it.]

The crazy memory pear. Christmas. When I was growing up... mum drank, dad worked. They stuck me in Catholic school. Priests and nuns were the closest thing I had to family so I guess, in New Jersey... for a minute I thought a reunion might be nice.

[It shouldn't come as a surprise that Penny's immediate response to this is another hug. She's not articulate enough to say what she'd like to, so it will have to do.]

It didn't look like much of a reunion.

[He's getting used to these, a little. There's only a moment's startled hesitation before he folds his arms loosely around her and squeezes back.]

I kind of fell out of the fold.

It happens. Then you need to find another family.

[Another family to walk out? Been there. Not that he says that, exactly.]

Or learn to deal without. Which—I have. So, no need to worry.

That sounds lonely.

I mean, I'd be lonely. I've left a lot of families, but there's always been another family waiting somewhere. ...But whatever works for you!

You've left a lot of families? [His hands slip from her waist to her shoulders, so he can lean back enough to look at her without quite breaking away.] Care system?

Is that Australian for foster care? [That leaves her hands free to fidget. It's not that she minds talking about it, but she's uncomfortable with the pity that usually comes with the topic.]

They're pretty interchangeable. [And he's taking that as a yes.] How long was that for?

Twelve years. They kind of kick you out when you hit eighteen.

[The mental calculation on that one is quick. Ouch. But his expression doesn't change, much, even as he figures it out.]

Rough on you. [There's no 'it must have been' to make that into a question. It's a statement.] Did you stay in touch? With your families?

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